


Is it raining in Heaven

by J_Anthony



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Armageddon, Post-Canon, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22149751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Anthony/pseuds/J_Anthony
Summary: Not every story has a happy ending, but that doesn't mean that Crowley gives up entirely.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	Is it raining in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a comic I found on Tumblr and I couldn't get it out of my head. I can't find it again, please link it if anyone knows which one it is!

Crowley looked at the watch on his bedside table. He didn’t have any other clock in his bedroom. The watch showed the time of twenty-one capitals. He only looked at the time that was relevant for him, the time it was in London. It was almost 5 pm and that meant that he really had to get out of bed because he was supposed to meet his angel. His bed was so nice and warm and he didn’t really want to get out. He stretched lazily underneath the silken sheets. He promised his angel he would come and would never break one of those promises. 

It only took a simple snap of his fingers to get dressed. It was his usual outfit, trousers that seemed impossibly tight and a lot of black. The only difference was the familiar tartan pattern underneath the collar of his jacket. 

He moved through his flat with languid steps, into his mostly unused and empty kitchen. His usual snake-like walk seemed rather stiff. Maybe he has spent too much time in bed. Crowley slid his fingers over the smooth surface of the counter top and stopped in front of the wine cooler. He bend forward and peeked through the glass at the bottles inside, but he mostly saw his own reflection peeking back. He opened the doors and shivered in the cool air. His fingers walked over the bottles until they found the one he was looking for. He was saving it for a special occasion as it was one of Aziraphale’s favourites, but now he considered every occasion after the world didn’t end special. 

“This one will do,” he muttered, he could very well picture the besotted face of the angel. 

He carefully removed the vintage from the cooler and left his flat. With a simple flick of his wrist he locked the door of his Mayfair place and reached his (perfectly illegally parked) Bentley within minutes. The sleek, black and grey car, only one owner from new (and that owner was himself), never let him down. Ever since Armageddon’t, not every single CD turned into a ‘Best Of Queen’ anymore, it happened only occasionally. Apparently, today was an occasion like that. 

_ A hand above the water _

_ An angel reaching for the sky _

_ Is it raining in heaven _

_ Do you want us to cry? _

“Oh, c’mon,” Crowley groaned only slightly offended, he didn’t make any effort to stop the music from playing anyway.

_ And everywhere the broken-hearted _

_ On every lonely avenue _

_ No one could reach them _

_ No one but you _

The tiniest smile tugged on his lips while listened and decided to softly hum slightly off tune. He had missed Queen. 

Crowley parked the Bentley on the roadside next to a dirt road, just outside of London. He firmly grabbed the neck of the wine bottle, took a deep breath and got out of his car. It was just a little way over the grass, between the trees and up a small hill, it wouldn’t take him long. 

He once took Aziraphale here before on a picnic. They already went out for lunch (and dinner) at the Ritz, so a picnic was the next logical step, since Aziraphale asked for it that one night he gave him the holy water and Crowley couldn’t deny the angel anything. Oh, his angel had been delighted by the surprise and he found the perfect spot. They drank wine and Crowley watched how Aziraphale devoured everything he conjured up out of the basket he brought. 

Crowley emerged from the trees and reached the top of the hill. There was a single, ancient tree and he walked towards it with a smile on his thin lips. The view from up there was spectacular, he could see green pastures as far as the eye could reach, a babbling brook split the scene in half. Somewhere on the left was a quaint little village, complete with a church tower and probably filled with tiny cottages. Seeing the sun set from here was more romantic than Crowley was willing to admit, but the golden light that shined upon the curls of the angel was breathtaking and gave him a halo of light. Right now, the sun was already setting and casted long shadows over the grass. 

“Hi, angel,” the demon greeted as nonchalant as he could manage. “I brought one of your favourites.”

He smiled and held up the bottle. His hand was shaking and his knees gave out, crashing onto the grass beneath him. With his hand still trembling, he put the bottle down carefully. Now that his hands were free, he removed his sunglasses, folded the arms and tucked it safely in the pocket of his jacket. He rubbed his eyes before reaching to the statue in front of him, a block of grey concrete where an angel kneeled on top of. Their wings outstretched behind them. The only inscription in the concrete was a name set in gold. 

“Aziraphale,” His voice cracked and caught in his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He tried to fight back the tears, but stopped trying and lowered his head in a quiet sob. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come yell at me on Tumblr!](https://normified.tumblr.com/)


End file.
